


The Guns of Yamenmiao

by Shadow2Serenity



Series: The Old That Is Strong [1]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Inter-Episode, Mal & Inara UST, Mystery, job fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow2Serenity/pseuds/Shadow2Serenity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crippled and low on fuel, <i>Serenity</i> lands on a border planet named Roma. While Kaylee runs into an old boyfriend, Mal searches out a former commanding officer of his and Zoe's, learning a dark and terrifying secret about this planet that he must help to protect from the Alliance. Meanwhile, Inara has her own encounter, one that may lead to just the solution Mal is looking for....or to the bitter end of his travels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted waaaaay back in 2008. In the hopes of rebooting and completing my five-part series "The Old That Is Strong", here be Book I for my first AO3 steps. Sincere and profuse thanks to my BFF PhyreLight for agreeing to see that it's fit for public consumption. ;)
> 
> (FYI: Mouse over the Chinese phrases to view the translation.)
> 
> Four out of five doctors agree that feedback is a vital supplement to the heart and soul!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: God is #1, Joss is #2. (No, not that kind of #2. I mean, he's the....I mean....aw, gorrammit.)

**********  
 **Prologue**

There was a chance that casual bystanders might have taken more than a passing interest in the _Firefly_ -class light transport touching down in the spaceport of Janus City on Roma, but the chance was so remote that it might have been out near Whitefall. And with no trace of a doubt, that was just as well to the nine low-lying personnel manning the small spacecraft.

_Serenity_ was in rough shape. While that might hardly be news to the crew of many a fifty-year-old _Firefly,_ 'rough shape' for _Serenity_ meant some kind of fortune in the extreme to get it off the ground again. Not a day earlier the ship had been caught with an abnormal list to port, which revealed that one of the attitude thrusters on the starboard side had fallen out of commission. No one needed speak the crew's dread of a rough ride and dwindling fuel reserves. Some lip-biting would be confessed following the final approach to Roma, in the uncertainty that flight control and fuel would last long enough for re-entry and landing.

Staring unblinkingly toward the small airlock windows, Malcolm Reynolds gratefully allowed his lungs to deflate when the burn-through gave way to the clear skies of planetside. _Looks like Lady Luck can't make up her mind about us,_ he thought dryly to himself as he returned his attention to the interior of the cargo bay. Other thoughts of dry humour crossed his mind, but passed from it almost stillborn: he was all too aware that he shouldered the responsibility for this from more angles than one. Kaylee Frye had been quiet but certain of voicing her concerns about crash damage after the rescue mission at the Ezra Skyplex. Grateful though Mal was for his crew's daring effort to save his life, the aftermath now snapped at his heels and theirs alike.

As outer planets went, Roma probably stood out as one of the more successful terraforming attempts of the last several decades. Unlike Lilac or Whitefall, an overabundance of desert land did not dominate the surface: unlike St. Albans, no deep freezes gripped the entire world. In fact, forests, prairies or mountains covered most of the dry land with according climates, and several fair-sized cities and numerous small towns were scattered across its three major landmasses. As he felt the soft bump of one such landmass against the footpads, Mal recollected an event on this world nearly a century past, akin to the Industrial Revolution of Earth that was: breaking free of the limited equipment they had been allowed to bring with them, the settlers had tapped the planet's resources to the point of industrialisation. Yet still they faced a limit, efficiency aside. Although mining and agriculture were the mainstays of the world’s economy, shipbuilding was the plum place for settlers to get started – Mal wouldn’t have been surprised if later-model _Fireflies_ were still under construction here.

Nor would he be surprised to discover the natives still finding new and remarkable ways to make a home for such settlers here on this sharply Alliance-unfriendly world. They were noted for their traditionalism, but systemwide curiosity still abided as to why they so tenaciously clung to what had been – and their aptitude for keeping the Alliance out of their hair. There were plenty worse places for _Serenity_ to find safe haven, so long as such old-fashioned traditionalism didn’t preclude the needed repairs: Mal wouldn’t mind a few days’ ease here, but he fostered no doubt that his itch for flight would flare up again in no time.

Back on the bridge, Hoban Washburne exhaled a sigh that could have blown a hole in the nearest viewport given any more force. _"Tian sha de,"_ he said heavily as he secured the helm. "We're lucky this ship runs on fumes when she has to."

"Better go easy on the luck," Zoe Washburne said in lugubrious tones. "Else we’ll be sucking air instead of fuel in less than three days." She patted Wash on the shoulder and turned to exit the bridge, trailed eventually by her husband – but not before he hesitated, gazing forlornly at the now useless control panel. Zoe was all too correct, as usual, and his passion for flying starved just as sorely as the ship. One could only hope that the fuel for the brilliant plan was yet plentiful.

Mal, standing at a large gap in the main deck of the cargo hold, stared at both of them from the corner of his eye as they made their way down the catwalk stairs. Across from him, Jayne Cobb stood with arms folded as belligerently as ever. He had been the most doubtful of Wash's ability to land _Serenity_ safely and in spite of the relief of that concern, it clearly made him no happier. There was yet to be any movement from Inara Serra or the Tam siblings, although the unholy, earsplitting sputtering noise echoing from belowdecks hinted strongly at the cause. Mal and Jayne seemed intently focused on it – no coincidence, Zoe deduced, that Kaylee was nowhere to be seen either.

"We oughta put out a 'No Peace and Quiet Beyond This Point' sign by the airlock," Wash commented as he and Zoe set foot on the main deck, raising his voice to a near holler to be heard over the ungodly racket.

"One argument we won't have," Zoe agreed. "What in the black _is_ that ruckus?"

"Can't be Jayne snoring unless he's learned to sleepwalk." Wash had finished speaking before he even realised that the noise had ceased a poor second before – just long enough for Jayne to hear the wisecrack and reward him with a blistering glare.

"You oughta talk, little man," the big mercenary growled. "Why d'ya think that attitude thruster's loose to begin with?"

"Hey, it's no skin off my back, I don't snore a tenth that loud," Wash shrugged. Then he frowned, glancing at Zoe for support. "Do I?" he queried uncertainly.

"When you learn to snore in Chinese, I'll let you know," Zoe smirked in reply.

"Speaking of loose attitudes, time the lot of you stow 'em," Mal cut in. Returning his attention to the gap in the deck plates, he bent slightly over it. "Kaylee, how's it look down there?"

A few seconds' pause and Kaylee's normally pert face appeared from the gap, with a newly removed rubber mask hanging from her neck. She clutched a pneumatic needle scaler in one hand and a pair of goggles in the other, which she laid to either side, her usual cheer usurped by an apologetic look upward at her captain.

"That thruster's had it," she reported dolefully. "Even duct tape and baling wire won't do the trick, and that's about the best I can do with it right now. Even Wash'll have his work cut out for him, we don't find a replacement part."

"And if we can't?" Zoe hazarded.

"We could use the starboard engine to compensate, but not for long," Wash volunteered. "It'll drain our fuel reserves close to three times as fast as normal."

"Already has." Kaylee's remark had the bite of a Reaver bad-tempered even by Reaver standards. She shoved herself upward out of the bilge, coveralls reeking of fuel, spurring all hands to a minimum distance of five feet as she pulled and pocketed her earplugs.

Mal would have needed mechanical aid to detach himself from the ceiling if he had given in to the urge to hit it. He barely kept the urge under control by folding his arms, taking a very deep breath, and very quickly counting to ten as he tried not to glower at Kaylee. "That mean what I think it means?"

"I was just down there needle-scalin' the starboard fuel tank," Kaylee went on. "It's near on dry, Cap'n. We probably got enough left on the port side to keep the main engine idlin' a spell, but even if we got her off the ground, we'd have to set her right back down again."

"Just another ruttin' day in paradise," Jayne grunted.

"Gorrammit." Mal's muttered curse perhaps most safely expressed his bubbling fury at Adelai Niska. Torturing him to within a micrometer of his life was one thing, but as far as Mal was concerned, the elderly psychopath had signed his own death warrant by seizing the crew's badly needed money and ultimately causing _Serenity_ 's disability. Should they ever cross paths again....

"It ain't the first time we dropped dirtside in this kinda shape, sir." Zoe's tone was calm but firm. "And maybe it's – "

"It's hot water."

Every tongue stilled, every head turned and every heart fluttered at the tiny but toneless sound of River Tam's voice.

She stood perfectly still between Simon and Shepherd Book, staring fixedly into the gap in the deck. Simon's usual anxiety about his sister's safety on this latest of strange worlds was visible as ever, but now paled beside the crew's apprehension. Even as it struck Mal that she had drawn the undivided attention of every person in the hold, it also struck him that her curious outbursts were still not considered a normal occurrence on _Serenity_ by now.

"Boiling hot," she went on. "We're in the middle of it, but have to find it before we get out of it. Got to search out Old Faithful. He's waiting to be released. The only one who can shoot us back into the air and it's up to us to find him."

Her eyes had yet to lift from the deck.

"Now what?" Jayne growled. "What's she spoutin' about this time? Damn sure’n she’s gonna find out, she don’t zip that crazy lip."

"Could be that's so," Mal said absently. "But we got no kinda time to mull over it. Need to get our bottom dollars in gear."

"If I'm not mistaken, our dollars are pretty well bottomed out already," Simon spoke up, evidently nonplussed by River's utterance. "You wouldn't happen to have an idea about our prospects?"

"Well, Zoe ain't wrong. We have had plenty rougher landings, still managed to scrounge up enough cold-and-hard to get us back in the air. Chances then were a tad worse than they are now."

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Zoe said.

To Mal's mind, her query was almost rhetorical. "Not so much what as who," he answered. "Ain't no way we'll reach him by wave. But if he's anywhere on this planet, he's within an hour's walk. Just gotta try and suss out where."

"Would it be too prying to ask who this might be?"

Mal looked up the stairs with a twitch of surprise that was imperceptible to all but River. Usually Inara's scent gave away her approach long before her voice or her appearance: however, the lingering stench of fuel on Kaylee's coveralls had well masked it this time. He paused, collecting himself from Inara's flaming red, jewelled and beaded appearance, a sure intimation that she had an appointment already.

"Old C.O. of ours," he answered presently. "Took his ease here on Roma after the war. He's got the occasional odd job, long as we can find out where to reach him."

"Indeed." Inara's eyebrow arched – River wasn't the only one who could tell that something about this mystery meeting struck a chord with her, possibly to the tune of helping Mal to find work worth his while. "If you're able to contact him, would I be prying any further to ask how odd the job?"

"No job's too odd, long as it pays." Mal paused, regarding Inara with a gleam in his eye that heralded his low opinion of her career. "Well, almost no job. I take it you're gainfully employed for a night or three?"

"You might say that," Inara's smile was wraithlike in its faintness, hidden under her don't-call-me-a-whore stare. "I suspect it depends on how long it takes for you to reach your friend. But if you can't, I'll be meeting mine at the Ventura Plaza an hour from now, if you have the desire and the need to meet him."

"Sure you're good with that?"

"As you say, as long as there's a paying job at hand. But don't worry, you won't be interrupting anything, at least not right away."

"How 'bout later on?" Jayne asked.

However lewd the implication, his manner was altogether deadpan. Even River had a rotten look to add to the other seven that spurted in his direction but evaded his notice completely.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him," Mal said to Inara with a forced smile. Turning away from her, he regarded the rest of the crew with a commanding eye. "Rest of you best keep on your toes in the meantime. Rather we avoid any run-ins with some inspection-happy Fed if there's any about."

"From what I understand about this planet, we've very little to worry about in that regard," Book spoke up at last. "Roma isn't one of the Alliance's finer points of interest."

"Just the same, we'll lay low," Mal said. "And don't get lost. Roma may not be crawlin' with Alliance overmuch, but all's it takes is one nosy Fed and we ain't leavin' here with _Serenity."_

"Say, Cap'n?" Kaylee piped up. Mal braced himself for the specialty of the request as soon as he saw the pretty-please expression in her eyes. "I'd, uh....kinda like to stick around here awhile, see if there ain't more I can do for _Serenity._ Be good to give that fuel tank a good scrub-down."

Mal frowned – it wasn't like Kaylee to want to stay vesselside while they were on the ground, especially this soon after landing. "You sure'n all, Kaylee?" he asked. "I was gonna let you browse around a little for any bits 'n' pieces we could afford later on."

"Good 'n' shiny, Cap'n." Kaylee smiled, but Mal could still see a strange, atypical apprehension in her eyes. "But I'll stay put if it's right with you. Might happen on somethin' I missed before."

"Okay, then." Mal nodded once, yet his gaze lingered on Kaylee for a long moment before he gave his attention back to the rest of the crew. "Jayne, let's you and me go for a little hike, try and get a line on where work's to be found."

"Sounds like fun if you get off on foot corns," Jayne said with a twinge of sarcasm, turning away and pushing past Simon on his way to the common area. Disgust at his crudeness filled the pause that followed, and then dismissal as it forcedly passed from the others' minds and the want of employment took over.

"If it turns out you can't reach your friend, I hope you'll consider my offer," Inara said as the rest of the crew disassembled. "It may be my acquaintance has just the kind of work you're looking for."

"Guess anything's possible," Mal stated loftily. "Whether it's him or Ray, long as one of 'em can help get us in the air again, I'll take off happy. Don't much care to guess whether that's what River was blabberin' about, though."

"I'd rather you didn't. Though if it's all the same to you, I'd also rather that this be the only time either of us has to dabble in the other's business, should it come to that."

The cynicism in Mal's slight grin was not lost on Inara. "Things get that bad, I might just take up religion," he goaded.

"Don't let me stop you," Inara smirked. "'From Petty to Piety: The Spiritual Journey of Malcolm Reynolds.' It almost sounds worth a read."

"All four sentences of it," Mal came back. "You can read it to your clients at bedtime. Meanwhile, I got a job to find somewheres on this dustball."

"At least it won't be as hard as you thought." Inara started to edge toward the stairs, but the teasing vanished from her lovely tanned features and a genuine care shone from her eyes, holding Mal inexplicably motionless for some seconds. _"Jian ni jin qi,_ Mal," she said finally.

A short nod and Mal began to turn away, moving to join the rest of the crew near the door to the common area. "You, too," he answered. Any further words that drifted past their minds were obliterated as the infernal din of Kaylee's needle scaler filled the cargo bay once more. Then Inara dropped her eyes and turned, sailed away up the stairs to her shuttle: and the swirl of her fiery red garments and curled black hair were all Mal had for it. Time for work was come. Sighing, he turned away from the stairs and made a beeline for the common area to retrieve his coat.

"So, any idea where I can take another crack at fry-cooking?" Wash asked with feigned enthusiasm.

"Not unless it pays better than I do," Mal said with as nonchalant an air as he could muster. "Zoe, long as Kaylee's stayin' with the ship, why don't you and Wash circulate around town a spell, just in case me and Jayne can't pick up on Ray's whereabouts. Wherever he's hidin', I'd wager he'll jump at the chance to cure all our ills."

"I just hope that doesn't have a hidden meaning," Simon commented.

Book turned a piquant glance upon him. "At the risk of sounding unmotivated, it's better that people need your services than mine."

"What I mean is," Simon clarified, "if he's saying that we're walking right into something, I'm sorely tempted to agree."

That temptation might have been equally sore for Mal, bar his few seconds' linger to part with Inara: if not for that, the three shady lurkers nearby might well have caught his eye. Keeping themselves to the shadows and their eyes on the ship, they rated a wide berth from every other individual in the street as they took up a concealed lookout across from _Serenity,_ waiting darkly and silently for their moment to pounce.


	2. Part One

Mal's order to lay low lacked specifics, but Simon's mind was set furthest at ease to stay with the ship, even though he had barely stepped off of it since Ariel. In his devoted protection of his sister he had begun to feel that he just might join in her insanity just from being stuck vesselside for so long. However, it wasn’t until River decided to curl up on the deck in the middle of the forward hall and take a nap that Simon felt an iota of safety in going outside for some fresh air: he relished whatever little distance he could put between him and the ghastly clamour of that needle scaler.

Already Wash and Zoe were carrying out Mal's orders, however leisurely. They were, in fact, taking advantage of it – disguising some husband-and-wife time by searching out a quiet heel-cooler of a retreat, staying within view of _Serenity_ just in case their presence might be urgently called for.

"You know what's funny?" Wash said, surveying the west side of the bustling main street.

"That silly little dinosaur routine you like to do when you think nobody's lookin'?" Zoe offered.

Wash had the grin of a man who had just won big at a racetrack as he turned to face her. "Dinosaurs, me?" he exclaimed, clearly mocking incredulity. "Noooooo! When have I ever had such time to fritter away with Mal scowling over my shoulder? Anyway, that's not the kind of funny I was referring on."

Only Wash would have the presence of mind to laugh his way out of such a predicament, Zoe thought fondly to herself. Expectantly, she turned her head, piercing Wash's gaze with her own while she awaited the impact of the other shoe.

He preceded his answer with a nod past Zoe, aimed toward a tall-standing spacecraft graving dock a few blocks distant. "I just wonder where these folks come off building ships as fast as they do without too much Alliance henpeckery," he went on. "I mean, it being an Independent planet and all, you'd think the Feds wouldn't give them a moment's peace commandeering every keel that's laid around here."

"Does have an oddness to it," Zoe acknowledged. "Mal and I used to know a couple of folk from hereabouts back during the war. Might say they're just old-fashioned, but it sure is their little secret why the Alliance tends to keep its nose out of here."

"Chances are we'll be staying long enough to find out." Wash's tone wasn't quite as doleful as it was impassive.

"Well, what was that you were sayin' about a vacation?" Zoe said warmly. To Wash's thinking, the sweetness of her smile almost outclassed the feeling of her arm sliding around his waist - but not quite.

Though not far from _Serenity,_ they were close to a mile distant by now from their compatriots: walking northward at a docile pace, Mal, Jayne and Book were on the sharp lookout for the mystical land of Ventura Plaza and wherever their employer – whether their own client or Inara's – might be found. Jayne was by now fairly brimming over with sarcastic remarks about Book's occupation in this bustling melting pot of a spaceport, but with them came the frustrating knowledge that Mal would do some mighty unpleasant things to his mouth if he spoke up. In point of fact, Mal was ready for this above all else and as such, he could scarcely blame Inara for stepping out ahead of them. Being seen alongside the likes of him and Jayne, and possibly even Book, could render her Companionship considerably less desirable for some.

"Somebody mind lettin' me in on something?" Jayne spoke up at last.

"Been made abundantly clear you ain't to go breakin' no kneecaps to take no one's money," Mal said firmly.

_"Hun-dan,"_ Jayne mumbled, inaudible. Aloud he went on, "Didn't say nothin' to that effect. All's I'm wonderin' is why this here's like to be the only spaceport on this whole hill o' beans."

"Ours is not to reason why," Book said calmly. "Ours is to refuel and fly."

"What, is poetry some kinda pre-placement gig for shepherd school?" Jayne scoffed.

"I think you might find that St. Paul was a master of the written word. As for the rest of us, well, we make do with what we're given."

"Well, if at some point that might include a pocketful of cash and a little wind in our sails, I'll die a happy man," Mal said, drier in his sarcasm than sun-beaten rawhide.

"Just try not to be too quick about it," Book said with a thin smile. "Myself I'd like to think we have a little time yet to do whatever it is we're here for."

Mal's gaze, now wandering to the east side of the street, lit on just what he was looking for. "Well, Shepherd, if you're lookin' to spread the word to those that need it, I'd say your Point A's yonder," he said frankly, jerking his head at the casino hotel across the street.

To Book's dismay, the edifice was gigantic: towering over the rest of the block at fifteen stories, it relied on far more than just its size to draw attention. The words VENTURA PLAZA glared across the city skyline at the top of the casino hotel, surrounded by multicoloured, flashing neon lights. Over half the east wall of the structure was covered with a plasma screen advertising upcoming performance events and promotional specials for prospective gamblers - it probably rendered the entire city block as bright as day in the middle of the night. The width of the main entrance easily rivaled that of a spacedock terminal, with an according number of doors, and a broad neon marquee sign spanning the awning above it. This area was fairly teeming with crowds from almost all walks of life, all age groups, and all social statures: the walking moneybags were almost as numerous as the down-on-their-luck hopefuls hedging about the entry way.

"The end of the line?" Book surmised sagely.

"Mayperhaps," Mal said thoughtfully, starting toward the entrance. "So long as Inara's already here."

"Well, now this is what I call the mother lode!" Jayne grinned. He clapped Mal on the shoulder, took another chomp on his cigar, and fell into step beside him toward the flashy entrance.

"Just remember, Jayne," Mal said sternly. "One word - _job._ That's what we're here to find, not some hair show." He silently asked himself why he was even wasting his breath, knowing that Jayne wouldn't pay any attention to him if someone had walked up and stuffed a bulging bag of platinum into his belt. Having checked his weapon at the door, he edged his way forcefully through the bustling mass of humanity until at last it spread out into what looked to be at least a 100,000-square-foot expanse.

"Not exactly my definition of a quality establishment," Book mused, looking around at the plush decor.

"It ain't no monastery, and that's a fact," Mal said. "Let's circulate around, see what we can see."

In spite of Mal's instruction, circulation was all but out of the question: the casino's populace was stacked six deep, and Jayne was by no means the only muscle tower present. Notwithstanding, Mal's instinct bore out when he happened upon the casino's lounge adjoining the card tables, which smouldered under heavy cigar smoke and Jayne's watchful eye alike. The big mercenary lost no time taking up a leaning position on the nearby bar, ogling the poker tables, possibly waiting for his chance to slip in on a game - no matter what sort of luck he'd had with them in the past. But then if he didn't quit eyeing passing bar girls, Mal reflected, his chances of even joining a game were likely to go up in the same smoke that gathered densely near the ceiling.

"Jayne, who in the _tian xiao de_ said you could knock off for a snort and a view?" Mal demanded.

Jayne shrugged offhandedly. "Voices in my head?" he offered.

"Nice to know there's somethin' in your head," Mal glowered. "Now why don't you tell it you've got better things to do, like help us track Inara down."

"Aw, c'mon, Mal," Jayne complained, tossing up his hands. "You just ain't brimmin' over with joy unless you're spoilin' somebody's fun, are ya?"

"Oh, believe me, there are plenty worse places to find one's happiness," Book interjected.

"Don't bother draggin' us off to 'em," Jayne grumbled. "Mal, does the phrase 'all work and no play' mean anything to you?"

"Not really," Mal shot back. "How about the phrase 'seven percent's standard'?"

For a moment Jayne was caught unawares: but then it dawned on him that he hadn't heard that phrase since Mal first hired him. Now all too understanding of the captain's implication, he made his concession with little more than a dissatisfied grunt.

Maintaining the glare, Mal looked past him as the bartender came into his field of vision, the top of his head all but hidden by the thick haze of cigar smoke. "Get somethin' for you gents?" he hailed Mal and company.

Mal was just about to answer him when he caught a sharp breath of inspiration, realising that he might not have to focus on finding Inara after all. He glanced obliquely at Book and then nodded to the bartender: "I'll take an Ng Ka Py. And anything you know about the whereabouts of one Raymond Corsetto."

The barkeep's reaction was singularly nonplussed. "Ng Ka Py I can do. But as to the rest of it, 'fraid you're lookin' in entirely the wrong place, fella."

"He ain't in the world much anymore?" Mal guessed, feeling his inspirational fire die somewhat.

"Well, if he is, he won't be for long if Boss-Man over there has anythin' to say about it." The bartender motioned past Mal with an empty glass, then set about filling the order.

Mal straightened up, turning in the direction the barkeep had indicated, toward the dead center of the card-table section. A crowd had gathered around a raised patio holding some of the central card tables, and between the warm bodies surrounding that patio Mal could now see some familiar red drapery. Curiosity again piqued, if not for such a passing fancy of a moment, he took a pull of his drink and sharply eyed the card table as several more spectators moved to join the crowd. Then he gave the table's occupants his undivided attention.

"Huh," was all he could think of to say.

Inara was directing one of the most alluring looks he'd ever seen at a man she had engaged in a game of baccarat. The man's style was nothing if not fastidious: mid-height, thick-bodied, he had a coarse thatch of black hair and dark brown eyes that tended to squint when he smiled, an expression to which he seemed quite predisposed with Inara across the table. The look on his face and the crowd around the table were drawn like water from a well: Inara was unmistakably a Companion no matter where she went. It wasn't hard to figure out where this game would lead, whatever its outcome, but Mal was too busy wondering just what kind of work this character might have for him if Inara had been truthful about it. Something about him, whether it was his fancy dress or his well-trimmed appearance, spelled _ill-gotten gains,_ somewhere slightly below Niska's level but well above Badger's. At least, Mal reflected, he could be sure of where to come if he couldn't get a line on his preferred prospects.

The man pulled a card out of the shoe and placed it facedown on the card that already lay before Inara: then he drew another card for himself. Obviously the bet had already been placed. Inara smiled warmly: she flicked her eyes downward for only a second to flip her cards face up. The seven of clubs and seven of hearts - a fitting combination, Mal couldn't help thinking - gleamed beneath the light that overhung the table, bringing Inara's total card value to four. Her opponent's hand revealed a total of eight: victory was his.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you that this was my game," he grinned.

"By no means is it the only game I'm accustomed to playing," Inara said huskily. "As they say, it rarely matters whether you win or lose." And with that it became clear that this game was far from finished. Laying their cards aside, the pair proceeded to draw another hand. 

"Tryin' to learn some tricks of the trade?" Jayne muttered.

_"Bi zui,"_ Mal muttered back. Scowling, Jayne retreated and turned instead to observing Inara's opponent. It struck him that he'd never seen a pair make such eyes at each other, not even in the pleasurable company he'd enjoyed on Higgins Moon.

Book was no less enraptured. "Our first night out from Persephone, she asked if I'd like to lecture her on the wickedness of her ways," he remarked. "Seems not a day goes by when I don't want to take her up on it."

"Oh, hell, I'll take her up on it later," Mal grunted.

The next deal ended in a tie, but neither player was deterred. The sultry, inviting expression on Inara's face had not changed as she waited for the dark-haired man to deal. He was warming up to her and no mistake: she must be the first individual in a while, let alone the first woman, to give him a run for his money at a game in which his expertise was marked. The back of Mal's mind crossed paths with an odd thought about what other fathomless secrets could be festering amongst his people. There was River's story, which she seemed likely to take to her grave; Jayne's hero worshippers back in Canton; Book's strangely intimate working knowledge of the Alliance military, his status as a Shepherd notwithstanding; and now Inara, a somewhat reclusive Companion with a hitherto unseen affinity for gambling. What could be next, Wash revealing himself to be a master swordsman?

Entertaining himself with thoughts like these, Mal watched intently as Inara turned her cards. Her adversary never even got the chance: she held the five of diamonds and the four of clubs, an instant win. Some excited buzzing dashed through the growing crowd around the table, belying some people deucedly impressed that Inara had come out on top.

"Mind telling me what other games you're accustomed to playing?" the man asked.

"Perhaps I'll show you later," Inara said. "Let's just say they involve a great deal of eye contact and resourcefulness." Her smile increased in temperature as she drew the cards from the shoe, working step by step up to the three-card rule. Breaths were held and lips were bitten as her opponent revealed his third card - the dreaded ten, holding his total at five. The win for Inara was thus almost assured: her three of spades evened her total out at eight. Another rush of excitement through the crowd, and another narrow-eyed smile from the man across the table.

"Well, now," he said amicably. "Looks as though you and baccarat certainly are old companions."

"Yes, that would be an appropriate way to put it," Inara said with a knowing gleam in her eye.

Hands folded on the tabletop, the dark-eyed man leaned forward, meeting her gaze. "So, what do you say we try a different game? One you might find a little more personal?"

"There's nothing I'd like better," Inara smiled. Together they rose: accepting the proffered hand of her new friend, Inara trailed him along a narrowed path through the crowd around the table. She took no notice of Mal, Jayne, or Book hanging near the bar before she and her evident client disappeared into the crowds, heading for the lift to the casino's upper levels. Mal still stared after her long after she had vanished, positively bewildered by her.

"Friend of yours?"

In fact, so flabbergasted was he that the voice took him completely by surprise: he hadn't heard it in years.

Nor had he seen the face from which it issued – even though that face had apparently been leaning against a wall near the far end of the bar, out of the bartender's field of interest, for much of the game. Turning toward him with eyebrows raised, the face, an olive-hued face with half-lidded hazel-brown eyes, a prominent nose and a crew-cut head of greying hair above it, showed him curiosity and then a broad, genial grin.

_"Ray!"_ Mal blurted, heading toward him at an abrupt stride. His own face nearly split in half as he boisterously shook hands with and embraced the newcomer. 

"Well, well, look what a new eye we got for a fancible run-in!" the stranger exclaimed.

"Ain't it just!" Mal broke the embrace, caring little that they had drawn a fair bit of attention from the other occupants of the lounge.

"So what dropped you outa the wild black yonder?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," Mal said loftily. "Like you to meet a couple o' my newest. Jayne, Shepherd Book, this'd be Ray Corsetto, the last sumbitch I ever called 'Captain'."

"How do you do," Book said pleasantly, accepting Corsetto's handshake. Jayne simply responded with a brief nod and a "Howdy."

"You figure on tellin' me later why you got a preacher in tow all of a sudden?" Corsetto said to Mal with a wry grin.

"Yeah, it's the kinda tale the Feds'll be sure to write outa history," Mal said. "But I got another story needs tellin'. You care to tell me how business is, I gotta do some _ma shang."_

With a single nod of understanding, Corsetto looked over his shoulder, briefly surveying the casino as if to make sure that the bartender still hadn't noticed him. As it turned out, that was precisely his motivation – all geniality had faded under the dead seriousness that had written the legend of his survival.

"All right, well, we better find a quieter place to hear it," he muttered. "That bag o' slime just walked outa here with the Companion? He runs this place with gold knuckles on one fist and brass ones on the other. He's probably got some of his eyes on me already."

"That a fact," Mal said tonelessly. His eyes drifted away from Corsetto, past him, toward the point where he'd last seen Inara and her new friend disappear into the crowd. He suddenly found himself hoping to hell that Inara had not let the man in on her lease agreement.

"It is." Corsetto studied him. Mal had a legend of his own – a legend for being concerned on those in his charge, whoever they were and whatever the conditions, a strong part of the deadly loyalty he drew from them. The same burning disquiet was readable in his stare now, as was its direction.

"Sure you don't know that girl?" Corsetto pried.

Mal had long ago learned better than to lie to him. "She's been ridin' my boat now goin' on a year."

"Well, if you ain't got a way to warn her, you better find one," Corsetto said ominously. "She'll be luckier than the both of us together if that smarmy bastard ever lets her out of his sight."


	3. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Serenity, Kaylee runs into an old friend. Meanwhile, Mal learns some disturbing details about the job his former C.O. has for him.

**前进**

For as much as she loved her travels and her work, there were times when nothing appealed to Kaylee more than some sunshine and fresh air - particularly if they heralded a fresh bushel of strawberries. Alas that there seemed to be no fruit farms within spitting distance of _Serenity_ 's landing point: but contentment greeted her anyway in the ceaseless shower of sunlight. It felt to her like the first day of a new life as she tossed her goggles aside on her way down the ramp from the airlock, refreshingly cleaned and clothed in her patched green coveralls. She sucked in a deep breath, pacing slowly about, stretching her arms and legs out from their erstwhile cramped quarters in the port fuel tank and filling her lungs with the fresh, fume-free air: she'd have to see if she could rope Simon into a short walk around the block later on. The morning light on her face felt nearly as warm and satisfying as their awakening in Canton, and much less likely to be ruined by Simon's awkwardness.

"What, no rainbowey parasol?"

Kaylee almost jumped - not so much from the abruptness of the voice as its familiarity. The sight of the tall man approaching _Serenity,_ in all his black-eyed, foghorn-voiced friendliness, came all but unexpected: yet in the same moment, Kaylee almost forgot about both Simon and her own motive for wanting to stay with the ship. This encounter had entered her mind the instant she discovered that _Serenity_ was landing on Roma. Nevertheless, she felt her jaw slacken and lungs inflate with surprised glee at the sight of the lopsided grin in the weather-darkened face, the grime-covered clothes and hands she hadn't seen since before her arrival on _Serenity._

"Hey, you!" she squealed, descending like a girl in a dream to the bottom of the ramp. _"Hao jiu bu jian!_ I sure the hell didn't think to run into you down here!"

"Knowin' full well this's where I'm from," the man grinned as he shared an enthusiastic hug with Kaylee, ignoring the lingering smell of fuel. "Or didja forget that little hand you had in the Guonian light-rail project?"

Kaylee's preferred response was devoid of tact, so she stepped back from the embrace and nonchalantly inserted hands to pockets. Unforgettably tall and rough-and-tumble though he was, some other men had taken a place in her life, and now in Robert Berakis she saw some kind of undeniable likeness to them – Mal and Simon especially. Truth to tell, she thus felt it just as well that his visit to her homeworld had not lasted any longer than it did. And yet, now that their paths had crossed again....

"Yeah, you always were the elephant," she burbled. "Doubt I'll ever forget that myself." Her eyes shifted and her smile turned apologetic. "I mean....I been thinkin' these last couple years you just as soon would, but...."

"Well, I won't deny tryin'," Robert shrugged. "But then, you're a hard gal to forget. Didn't figure on rememberin' you quite this soon, though. What touched you down in this neck o' the woods?"

Pride now erased all trace of apology from Kaylee's still-smudged face. "My baby," she beamed, swinging a thumb over her shoulder at _Serenity._

"Hm," Robert said, appraising the ship as if looking to make a bid on it. _"Firefly,_ eh?"

"Yeah, she's fiery, but she ain't flyin' far," Kaylee said dolefully. "She was suckin' fumes when we landed. Everyone's just hopin' to scare up enough cold hard coin to fill the tanks. I'm just bangin' round a bit, y'know, try'n keep our _pi qi huai de_ captain smilin'."

"Smacks to me of a noble cause," Robert considered. "You been with this boat long?"

"'Bout two years," Kaylee said. "First of many, I'll clue ya. She speaks to me, y'know? My captain says you won't never get nowhere with this boat you don't love her all unconditional, like."

"Yeah, I know how that goes. You and I both know how it is with machines we love. Don't matter how many nuts and bolts and wires they're made of, it's just....it's the damnedest thing, it's like there's a person inside of 'em." 

"Amen to that. Person inside _Serenity_ here, though, she's awful hungry. Won't never get off the ground again unless we find some way to feed her. But, you know what they say about how it happens when you least expect...." Immediately she ground to a halt. This, she knew, was not a conversation he was keen to have within minutes of reuniting. Instead she broke a smile that made the late-morning sun look like a dirty chunk of coal. "How about you, you still into the heavy haulin'?"

"Still?" Robert chortled. "I'm gonna die with the heavy haulin', you know that. I'm just back off an overnighter from Augusta, matter o' fact. Ain't got much else I'm lookin' to do for the next couple days, though...." The shift of his feet negated his attempt to sound casual.

"Just a shipload of catchin' up," Kaylee grinned. "Gimme a couple of minutes, willya? I got somethin' special to whip up while you get ready to dish!" 

She had the grin of a three-year-old playing a piano for the first time, magnetising his gaze as she backed up the ramp into _Serenity._ A grin like hers could have disarmed Jayne no matter how laden he was with his hardware. Struck cold without a reply, Robert hesitated: his recollection of Kaylee was eternal, if not entirely pleasant. But for all that there was to remember, it would do him well to forget, if only for the next couple of hours. A grin of his own gave away his choice as he followed Kaylee up into the cargo bay.

**前进**

Mal had never been to Corsetto's base of operations before, but nonetheless he knew of its transient nature – Corsetto never seemed to use the same venue twice. To Mal especially, it was a strange strategy at first glance: his former commander ran a very quiet, yet profitable transportation and construction business, but how his nomadic methods allowed him to build a client base, no one had ever pinned down. Whatever the technicalities, Mal fully understood the motivation – akin to his own for sailing _Serenity:_ stay out of the Alliance's reach, by whatever means possible. He could, at least, reckon that a different location for every meeting gave Corsetto leave to conduct it on his own terms, and prevent any unpleasant surprises, quite possibly the same reason he'd been hanging around the casino to begin with.

Mal made a mental note that he'd have to try a similar tack with future clientele as Corsetto led the way into a large book shop on the other side of the street, about a block away from the plaza. Corsetto was evidently no stranger to the coffee shop that occupied one corner of the store, for he drew some welcome recognition from employees and patrons alike: this must be, Mal discerned, one of his few meetings with a contractor he trusted enough to confer with at a past locale. Book, however, seemed strangely preoccupied with the rest of the store as the café corner came underfoot.

"Captain," he said calmly, noting with amusement that both Mal and Corsetto turned to face him. "If it's all the same to you, there's some recreational reading I'd rather like to get done while we're here."

"Suit yourself," Mal said. "Don't buy me anything too special."

Smiling thinly, Book nodded to Corsetto, whose eyebrows reached for his fading hairline as he watched the shepherd amble off toward the history section. "Still love to know what the story is with that guy," he commented when Book was out of earshot.

"You and me both," Mal said. Chortling, Corsetto made a prompt beeline for a four-seat table in the back of the shop, itself half buried behind bookcases and décor – more than likely to ease his worries about spying eyes.

"Zoe still got your back?" he asked as he led the way to the corner.

"Always with the iron grip, she does," Mal affirmed. "Broken-down ship and all."

Corsetto let out a loud but satisfied sigh as he plopped himself down in the corner chair. "So you're still blattin' around in that old _Firefly,_ are ya?" he surmised, half-grinning.

"Wish I was," Mal said. "'Cept she's in kind of a bad way right now. We had a run-in with some other unsavoury types a couple weeks back, got ourselves disabled and a mite hungrier than I'd like."

"And you figured I was your man, huh?"

"Just happened to be passin' by when the time came to hit the dirt," Mal said casually. "But now that you mention it, if you've at least got a notion where paying work's like to turn up...."

"Start countin' your blessings I found you when I did." Again Corsetto had crossed the very thin line between jocularity and serious business. "I got better than a notion. Might be I've got some of that paying work if you feel up to it."

"I got no feelings when it comes to a job. If it gets me back up in the sky, you can count me in."

"Ain't gonna venture a guess whether the rest of us got a say in it," Jayne rumbled.

"Best you don't. Wouldn't want you crispin' your brain stem." Mal folded his arms on top of the table, giving Corsetto his full attention. "Don't know about Jayne here, but I'm listenin'."

He couldn't suppress some amusement to see that Corsetto had never shaken his nervous habit of shifting from side to side in his chair. "Well, like I said, good thing I found you before that _dai de wai xing ren fen tu_ back there in the casino. The guy's as dirty as a burned-out coal mine. His name's Josiah Carabella. Makes out like he's the humanitarian of the millennium, but he's the biggest mob guy this side of the core. Even some of the folk who live outside this city don't know it, but he takes upwards of ten times as much as he gives."

"I'm gonna take a leap here and guess he's the reason you make like lightning," Mal said.

"Let me make you feel special, Mal, this is the first time I've hit the same spot twice. He's been tryin' to get at me ever since I made landfall here. Dirty bastard doesn't give a good gorram what gets between him and a boatload of cash. Not even the side of a mountain, and right now he's tryin' to prove it."

"What is he, diggin' for gold?" Jayne asked.

"Near enough. What he is diggin' for, some might think it's worth even more."

"Oh, now _I'm_ listenin'." Grinning, Jayne hunkered forward across the table and stared hard but eagerly at the older man.

Corsetto briefly appraised him with a dubious eye before proceeding with the yarn. "Well, no doubt you guys have seen the way folk live hereabouts. First I landed here, I was quick to find out just how old-school they kick it. There's a reason this spaceport's the only one in the world."

"Did have our own wonderings about that," Mal said matter-of-factly. "But it makes a kind of sense now that I seen it up close – less likely to catch a Fed eye."

"There's more to it even than that. People live and work around here like nobody's lived for more'n half a millennium. Every planet we ever seen is only as Earthlike as its folk can make it, but these folk make a whole new depth of it. They take pages from Earth history here that you'd never guess they could still read."

"Hmm." Mal smiled thinly, showing a spark of interest that could very well light up the entire casino hotel. "Later on you'll have to tell me just how that keeps the Alliance's toes out of the dirt."

"I been here since the end of the war and I still can't make heads or tails of it," Corsetto said with a wry smile. "But even folk who do come to find that answer, they won't make it far if they ain't ready to start something for themselves. Thirty-odd years ago, some of 'em already wanted to start something."

"Wouldn't be something we got ourselves involved in, would it?"

"Well, this wasn't the only starting point, that's for dead sure. And neither was Shadow for that matter. So some smart-ass took a page from one of the World Wars on Earth that was, and he cast a lineup of nine of the biggest warhead launchers the human race ever laid eyes on."

Mal was momentarily speechless. He had spent the war so engrossed in fighting the Alliance that he had never heard tell of such awesome mega-weapons, much less the effects of their fire. At that, he found himself wondering how the war had even been lost with launchers of that caliber on their side.

"Never heard a breath about those," he remarked when his shock had subsided.

"Probably 'cause they never made it to the front," Corsetto said morosely.

"What happened?"

"Well, first of all let me tell you what they were for. The First World War got fought in the early twentieth century. Ground combat was a bitch on both sides, but sea power got a chance to prove itself, even on dry land. Both sides built cannons designed for battleships, mounted 'em up on railroad flatcars and sent 'em on their merry to blast the hell out of the other guy. They got pretty damned good at flittin' around behind the lines and keepin' the other guy guessing at where all that scrap metal was coming from."

"And this smart-ass conjured the same thing might come in useful against the Alliance," Mal said. "Lemme guess, air support changed things."

"It did once," Corsetto nodded, "but that was six hundred years ago. Them as designed these guns figured the Feds would've forgot all about 'em by now and wouldn't know what in the name of Satan was hitting them. The hot point of a railroad gun is that it can stop, cut one loose, then by the time you recover from the impact and trace its fire, it's already on the move for cover. Make a hell of a headache for your enemy tryin' to figure out just how many of 'em are out there, let alone where to find 'em."

"Gotta get to the front line first, though, don't it?" Jayne pointed out.

"Yeah, that helps," Corsetto said, hiding his sarcasm. "That's where they ran into trouble with these. The guns were loaded onto a hotshot freight train headed for a transload yard in Pecola, where each one was supposed to get mounted on a heavy-duty flatcar, shuffled into its own train and then shipped out to some key planets. But that's the last time they were ever seen up close. The train never got to Pecola and everybody's split on whether it even left Janus City."

"Bet you're gonna tell me what all this has to do with Don Whatsisface," Mal said, deadpan.

"Carabella's hired a handful of miners and parked 'em up on Yamenmiao Pass. It's the route that rail line takes across the Napoli Mountains. Wasn't no one could figure out what they were diggin' for until Carabella claimed that the train was carrying some of his old man's property. Doubts run pretty high on that one, but come hell or high water, he's gonna keep them guys hackin' the ground till they hit steel."

"Well, if the train never left the yard, what's he think he's gonna find?" Jayne frowned.

"Just about anyone you could ask is either dead or mobbed up," Corsetto said, tossing up his hands briefly. "Some o' those railroad guys still swear on their pipe wrenches that the train loaded up, left Janus City and disappeared without so much as a smoke signal. Their bosses did right well to make sure the rest of the 'verse thought elseways."

"So what makes Carabella think there's anything _to_ find?" Mal sought.

"Well, that's the big mystery." Corsetto leaned across the table and stared Mal seriously in the eye. "One I want you to solve, Mal. Anyone else'll tell you there never was a train, but Carabella wouldn't be blowin' that much money on the dig if he didn't have a damn good reason."

Silence hung heavy and clouded over the corner as Mal's eyebrows straightened: his expression was as surprised as it was suddenly hopeful. Granted, he could go without dealing with his second ruthless criminal in as many weeks, but now it mattered no more. A job hung within his reach, one that could get _Serenity_ not only off the ground, but all the way to the edge of the galaxy and back if the mood struck him. Notwithstanding, he had one last cloud to be cleared from his sky first.

"All right, Ray, I'll bite," he said quietly. "Why me?"

"You're it, Mal," Corsetto said simply. "In more ways than one. I done called on just about all my regulars, and even if they got the time and the skill to find out what's goin' on here, they ain't got a mind to run afoul of Carabella."

"And you think I got that mind because....?"

"Even after Serenity Valley, you gotta ask me that? There's a reason you're alive today, and it's the same reason you've stayed out of the Feds' reach this long. You know what you're doin', Mal, and you got what it takes to jump in there and come back out again."

"Ain't just the Feds' reach I'm worried on," Mal said, suddenly on guard. "Don't much care to spoil your appetite tellin' you what I went through a couple weeks ago, but that's an act I ain't keen to repeat."

"Look," Corsetto's voice was low but as intense as his stare. "Time's short. Who the hell knows when or where Carabella's gonna find what he's lookin' for. And when he does, who do you think gets a hold of those guns? You're worried on foulin' him and his kind, there's gonna be a lot more people worried on it if he gets the guns before we do. I gotta have you on this, Mal. You need the work and we need to get those guns someplace safe, so whatever you think's a fair price, you name it. Time's even shorter for that lady-friend of yours than it is for us."

Mal caught his breath, almost involuntarily.

He tried not to let his alarm show: it was an offer he could barely refuse to begin with, but once reminded of the risk to Inara he would rather be back in Niska's torture chamber than turn down this job he so sorely needed. He let his breath out, slowly, silently, exchanging with Corsetto a gaze so intense that it impelled Jayne back slightly from his edge of the table.

"You guys ain't, like, about to spontaneously combust or nothin'," he said, dead serious except for the slight half-grin dinting his cheek.

"Not unless it lights our way," Mal said tonelessly. "Which we can't, 'less you got a starting point in mind." This to Corsetto, whose stare cooled somewhat as he silently acknowledged Mal's acceptance.

"There's a stone quarry about four and a half miles south from the top of the pass," he said. "That's where Carabella's concentrating - seems to think that's the only place he'll find anything. If I were you, I'd try and sneak up there and spy on his boys, then see if you can figure out where to go from there."

"All right," Mal said slowly. "I'll talk it over with my crew. But even if we could take back to the air right now, we ain't gonna do it without finding that train and finding it first."

"Might be I can distract that _er zi biao zi_ from you buzzin' around," Corsetto said. "I'll do the damnedest that I can. But if he gets wise to either one of us, I can't promise you any backup."

"Well, I ain't the only one who's still walkin' and talkin' for a reason. Still gotta work on the how, but I got the what and where. Be enough to get it done."

"All right." Corsetto took a deep breath, casting his eyes to the tabletop. "Well, all I got left is good luck, then. Let's just hope the two of us have enough left to get what we're after before Carabella does."

His hand undulated across the table. Mal gripped it firmly, and they shook, despite the sudden wash of apprehension that he tried not to show to Corsetto or Jayne. Almost no doubt lingered with him that he was now dangerously close to a retread of his last train job, in which case he'd better exert every possible effort to see this one through: but even if he didn't, he had already seen his entire crew band together to rescue him from the repercussions. If they could beat the Skyplex odds, Mal didn't know where to find odds that they couldn't beat, nor did he want to look. He had what he was after.

No matter the end result, the ball rested squarely in Mal's court to hold up his end of the bargain, whatever resources it took to solve the mystery of this phantom train and bring it back to light. The Skyplex rescue aside, Mal couldn't possibly allow himself to think that his crew was untouchable - the instant he started doing so, all nine of them would set out on a job and only seven would come back. His experience during and after the war had shown him time and again that he must expect anything, for good or ill, and that he must live by that sentiment on this whirlwind adventure that was hurling him into unknown skies.


	4. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once more, Mal is a man with a mission. But he also has competition - and he uncovers a strange clue when he encounters the competition.

**前进**

Wash had observed, and he had cogitated, and he had even dabbled in a little bit of considering. In his near monastic meditation he had concluded - though it remained to be seen whether the conclusion was safe - that his impromptu date with Zoe faced no imminent threat of ruin in their current surroundings. The tavern they had happened upon was by no means the type Mal might patronise looking for a "quiet drink" on Unification Day, relieving Wash of the inclination to stay on his toes. Zoe had excused herself a few moments ago: for what, Wash hadn't the foggiest, but at length he realised that he was still bracing himself for unwanted attention from one source or another.

In awaiting the return of his beloved he embarked on studying his surroundings, and Zoe's notion about the old-fashioned way of life here rang truer yet. The walls of the tavern were not so decorated with holographic captures of prairie life as with old representations of the small frontier towns of Earth that was. One nearby picture depicted a neat, clean-cut street corner, and beneath it nestled the frame label: VIRGINIA CITY, NEVADA, CA. 1880. On the opposite wall, a painstakingly hand-drawn broad view of Yellowknife, Northwest Territories in its infancy hung just below the ceiling, and beneath it was nailed a wood carving of a wagon train crossing the plains. Yet Wash's attention kept drifting back to a large colour photograph hanging directly above the bottle rack behind the bar. Most of the colour had faded, but the still-legible caption described Dabaliang, China, 1989. Immortalised here were two immense steam locomotives commencing an all-out attack on a mountain pass, with a long string of fat tank cars in their wake.

It was an oddity, Wash thought, if not a full-blown mystery: these people lived very close to the same archaism as any other border-fringe world, yet somehow they had prospered while minimising Alliance interference. They were proud of it to a fault, and justifiably so. From the tavern's decorations he could glean that they had taken a page or three from the historical accounts of mankind's last three centuries on Earth that was, but he could almost give up a weekend on the beach with Zoe to find out how that enabled them to shrug the Alliance off without a gulp.

He emptied his glass, plopped it down on the bar, and dug his radio out of the pocket of his blue-and-white aloha shirt. Brow furrowing, he held it in front of his face for some seconds as if willing it to light off. He felt like he'd been waiting since the exodus for Mal to call in, but there had been no contact now for almost three hours. Sighing for want of any understanding, Wash returned radio to pocket, catching Zoe's approach in his peripheral vision.

"Still no word from the captain?" Zoe asked, leaning on the table beside him.

"So far, so blank," Wash answered. "Don't think it's wise, though, separating too much further. You know I've had to fend off the attentions of at least three or four bar floozies looking to buy me another round while you were out?"

"Well, then," Zoe said, staring daggers into Wash's eyes. "Best we move on soon. Can't have you flying while intoxicated, now can we?"

"Well, dearheart, there's much better in this 'verse to get drunk on," Wash assured her with a dapper smile.

The thought of a return smile had just entered Zoe's mind when it was subsequently forced out by a sound that had become inordinately familiar aboard _Serenity_ of late. These days, the sound - that of Simon's voice calling River's name - could be heard with enough frequency to shatter every wine glass in the tavern. Looking past Wash, Zoe at once spotted Simon hastening from the front door behind River, whose pace was as impetuous as it was rapid.

"C'mon," she exhorted, grabbing Wash and Zoe's hands. "We've got to get out of here quick. The ringing, it's getting faster. Faster and closer." Her eyes darted upward, rushing from nowhere to nowhere along the ceiling.

"Ringing, what ringing?" Wash was baffled out of his mind, which never even questioned how River had found them. Of Zoe he inquired, "You haven't heard any church gongs for the last little while, have you?"

"It's too fast!" River insisted. "The faster the ringing gets, the closer they come and the sooner they'll find you. As soon as they find you they'll shake you to pieces. No losing them once they make contact, not till they've torn you apart piece by piece."

"Okay, okay," Wash said, holding up his free hand in a nothing-to-be-lost attempt to placate her. "Before we all start hearing the tintinnabulation that so musically wells, why don't we try and come to some agreement on what exactly you're talking about."

"I don't like the sound of it, whatever it is," Zoe said grimly. "And I ain't picked up on Ray yet. Let's see if we can't track down the captain."

As they exited the tavern, with River in hurried lead, Simon glanced obliquely at Wash. "I'm sorry about the interruption," he ventured, trying to sideline his worries about River. "I hope you weren't too...."

"Don't worry about it," Wash dismissed with waved hand. "I can think of plenty worse ways to piss Zoe off, and they don't involve inaudible jingle-bells."

**前进**

Ringing unheard, Mal's contacts were already conveying him and his men, sans Corsetto, back along the main street toward _Serenity._ He instantly recognised the expression on Jayne's face - a look of complete cluelessness, resulting from a futile attempt to be thoughtful. Enlightenment and word-spreading aside, Mal found himself also learning to recognise what was on Book's mind just by reading him. Even at that, what Mal found most disquieting was what lay between the lines: the shepherd had been quiet and contemplative ever since rejoining Mal and Jayne just outside of the book shop.

"All right, Mal," Jayne grunted. "Now that it's a done deal, you got enough picks and shovels handy? 'Cause I got a thinkin' that it's gonna take all of us an' then some to dig up this train if it's even where he says it is."

"Don't much matter to me what it takes," Mal said firmly. "We got a job to do, so we're gonna do it and we're gonna get our collective _pi gu_ back in the air. Ray had a point, slime like Carabella don't blow their high dough like this for nothin'. So until we fall over proof elseways, I'm gonna treat myself to thinking the train's there to be found."

"I think we'll find digging for the truth is a secondary concern, and soon," Book advised.

"I hate it when you get all ominous-like on us," Jayne grumbled.

"Not overfond of it my own self," Mal said. "You care to enlighten us on this one, Preacher?"

"Might have use for that recreational reading," Book explained. "I came across one volume on Roma's greatest outlaws, and it's small wonder that it was a star display in the history section. One of the last chapters was about a local mob kingpin named Marion Carabella, apparently quite the extortionist in these parts."

"Now how's a guy get any respect as a criminal with a name like Marion?" Jayne wondered rhetorically.

"Same way a guy gets any respect as a mercenary with a name like Jayne," Mal said, receiving an incendiary glare in exchange for his deadpan delivery. "Reputation's the heart of the matter, fella. This guy have any family ties we should know about?"

"Well, the book doesn't bear any mention of his offspring, but apparently he died about twelve years ago as the war was taking shape," Book answered. "And the circumstances of his death weren't outlined. It was widely held but never proved that a federal officer killed him shortly before a heist and then orchestrated a cover-up."

"All them big-ass words still don't relieve us from fixin' how to dig this train out of thin air," Jayne growled.

"Gotta find it first, then we can worry about the exhumation." Mal caught himself too late, aiming a sideways stare Book's way. "That ain't too much of a problem notion for you, is it, Preacher?"

"Strikes me unlikely that whoever was on the train received a proper burial," Book said matter-of-factly. "It wouldn't hurt to at least say a few words for them."

"Well, I'll leave you to that," Mal said. "And while you're at it, why don'tcha ask for something more to hand than picks and shovels. I could stand to get this done right quick with less of the unwanted help from Carabella's camp."

"I been formulatin' a thought here might make you say hmm," Jayne spoke up. "How's about we let him do all the hard work and then swipe it out from under 'im?"

"Hmm," Mal said with a voice drenched in mockery. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' not so much. Carabella may be a two-bit hood compared to Niska, but they're still turds of a feather, and I ain't revisitin' the consequences of stealing from the gorram mob, _dong ma?"_

"Captain!"

Mal broke off, shooting a glance toward the other side of the street, somewhat gratified that whoever it was had called him by his title instead of his name. As it turned out, the call, appropriately enough, was from Zoe: she and Wash – having deposited Simon and River safely back on the ship - were making haste across the street to join them.

"Zoe!" Mal answered, the beginnings of a smile playing on his face. "I got some good news and I got some on-the-fence news. What do you want to – "

He noticed the shocked widening of Zoe's eyes a split second before her piercing holler bit at his ears.

_"Cap'n, heads up!"_ she yelled, going into a fighting crouch.

Mal didn't need to be convinced by the sight of her hand going for her mare's-leg holster. He whirled around, his own hand going for his pistol just in time to see the three ugly-looking and evil-smelling thugs accosting him and his companions from behind. One was armed with a very large stainless-steel club, one with a shotgun: the short one in the middle, his face half hidden by stubble and grime, had just whipped a pair of silver-plated six-shooters out of opposite holsters on his belt.

_"Ta ma de!"_ Mal snarled. The one closest to him, brandishing the club, had it at the height of the backswing already. Mal was a microsecond too late to shoot him before he brought the club down upon Mal's forearm, sending the pistol tumbling from his hand, and immediately going into another low-arcing backswing. Mal responded with a wordless but ferocious roar - though not so much from pain as from fury at being caught at a disadvantage.

Jayne had the pleasure of dealing with the shotgun bearer – and for him, a pleasure it was, once he recognised the man's tactic. He also had taken a swing with the large weapon, making to knock Jayne down first and then blast him before he could roll out of the way. Thanks to Zoe's warning, Jayne was quicker on the draw – striking out with his left hand to throw off his enemy's swing, he snapped his hunting knife from its sheath and swung it from the stretch in a low, flashing arc. The faithful blade made an end of both the attack and the attacker as he rammed it deep into into the gunner's abdomen.

Mal also took advantage of the clubber's attempt to increase the force of the swing. He launched himself forward with a strategic rightward feint to put the clubber between him and the other gunman, grabbing for the club, yanking it upward and gripping it at either end: then he drove forward, depriving the clubber of balance and hurling him backward against the gunman. The sharp cracks of the two pistols going off gave rise to the screams of several bystanders, the last of whom were galvanised into scuttling for cover as Mal spun around. He looked wildly around for his pistol - it was not where he'd expected it, having been kicked out of the way by the clubber as Mal shoved him backward off his feet. Scrambling to one side, Mal ducked, peripherally seeing Zoe trying to maneuver for position to get in a shot. Wash was dancing about at a safe distance, trying to keep clear of any potential lines of fire, but Book had borrowed Zoe's idea and now sought for his chance to jump back into the fray.

Mal stooped for his pistol, grabbing frantically for the stock and spinning around again to deal with what remained of the threat. Jayne already had a hold of the shotgun and was drawing a bead on the clubber, but Mal had no chance to spectate – the second gunman had abandoned one of his pistols in favour of throwing himself straight from the ground against Mal's legs, knocking him flat on his back before scrambling onto him with his second pistol still at the ready. Somewhere in the background, the screams of the onlookers echoed the thunder of the shotgun as Jayne ended the clubber's clubbing career.

"Don't be lookin' for no Lickey Banker!" the gunman snarled. Mal hadn't the split second he needed even to dwell on the warning. He jerked his arm upward, reversing grip on his gun from stock to barrel, and gathered his strength to swing it against the gunman's head. Time was almost out – his attacker still had weapon in hand, bringing it to bear on Mal's temple.

All at once, a booming roar rang deafeningly in Mal's right ear: but he barely had cause to flinch. For it was not the high-pitched crack of the small-caliber pistol in his assailant's hand, but the familiar report of Zoe's trusted mare's leg. The gunman's face went blank, his grasp went suddenly limp: he lost all awareness, comprehension and sensation as a gush of crimson began to form behind his lips. Mal, grimacing, dropped his own weapon and shoved the filthy, stinking body off to one side before the gunman's blood could start exchanging faces.

He heaved himself to his feet, nodding his thanks to Zoe, who unthinkingly lowered her smoking carbine and reattached it to her thigh. "Seems today's our day for lucky meetings," he commented.

"Had a notion you might need the backup, sir." Zoe's cool smile was no doubt raising the nerve of the first bystanders to notice that the engagement was over.

Surveying the fresh corpses, Wash shook his head. "Well, I guess now we know what the River-child was on about," he remarked.

"Oh, yeah?" Jayne grunted skeptically. "So how d'ya suppose _she_ knew?"

"No worry of ours," Mal cut in. "But these clowns are. Somethin' tells me we're – "

"You guys are in for it, that's what you are!" The exclamation came from one of the few bystanders brave enough to resume his feet, approaching Mal and company with shell-shocked fear in his expression. He vaguely reminded Jayne of Meadows, the young Canton mudder who had taken a shotgun blast for him.

"And you sussed this out how?" Mal demanded more than asked.

"These are some of Josiah Carabella's guys," the bystander said. "Ain't a one of us got a problem with you takin' 'em down, friend. But unless you got anything better to do than live, you better get gone while the gettin's good!"


	5. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaylee reunites and reminisces with an old flame until he turns out to be no stranger to Mal and Zoe.

**前进**

If Kaylee's grin had dimmed at all since she re-entered _Serenity,_ it escaped all notice as she ascended the ladder from her conspicuously marked room and flitted aft to the galley. Love new faces though she did, there were old faces aplenty that she couldn't ever imagine turning away. Nor could she deny that not all the memories of this face were pleasant: but she told herself to forget about them, to enjoy the moment as it passed, like any other moment aboard _Serenity._ She instead indulged herself in worthwhile memories of the moments she and Robert had happily shared during his month-long visit to Guonian, as she filled two glasses with her own blend of strawberry banana juice.

What had drawn them together in that short time was their mutual love of simplicity, of functionality, of machinery that operated within those bounds. And even then they had broadened each other's horizons of functionality, whether advanced or anachronistic: Kaylee had jumped at the chance to show Robert how to fix a crabby hydraulic pump, and Robert in turn had taught her how the simple expansion of water into steam could move an endless chain of people and supplies for centuries on end. He had been impressed with her mechanical knowledge – considerably more profound and expansive than his own – as she'd helped to fix the equipment he and his compatriots used to start constructing a light-rail network on Guonian: in her own spin, she didn't mind admitting how excited she was to hear and learn about his work. As she repaired to the common area via the aft stairs, she found herself itching to hear all about it again and to regale him with some of her own exploits on _Serenity._

Robert relaxed in the easy chair, looking up with a pleased smile as Kaylee approached. Her returning smile far outradiated his, and she handed him one of the juice glasses, settling on the outboard couch with one leg curled beneath her.

"So how's the Eighty-Seven been treatin' you?" she asked curiously, lounging back on the couch against the bulkhead.

"Oh, she's still the Eighty-Seven," Robert said loftily. "You remember how she is - go easy on her and she'll just march right up the hill, but beat on her and she'll beat you right back. Steam engines ain't never run elsewise. I got the shop gang to re-tube the superheater last year, and next run we weren't hardly past Manchu Curve when the throttle started doing one of these." He slowly swung his arm upward, pantomiming the motion of a pendant throttle lever, noting to his amusement that Kaylee was glowing with delight. "All by itself, my hand to God. She wanted to run so hard, she walked a three-thousand-ton container train up the pass at fifty per. She hadn't steamed like that since the war. Funny, it's like she knew we lost, and she didn't much care to get usurped by the Feds."

"Sure'n all she did," Kaylee said with a reflective smile. "Ships, trains - like you said, they's like to have a person inside of 'em. I remember one time we ported on Persephone, and I wandered off toward the triplex, but musta taken a wrong turn somewheres while I was walkin' back. And in the Eavesdown Docks, you take one wrong turn and you're humped, you'll never find your way clear to where you gotta go. I was goin' a mite staticky in the brain pan if you know what I'm talkin', just wanderin' around town like a little kid lost in a museum. Had no idea where I was, had no idea if the cap'n and Zoe were out lookin', but then _Serenity_ found me. All of a sudden I turned around and there she was, sittin' right there in front of my nose, same as she's here now. I swear, she picked herself up and flew all by her lonesome right to me."

"Cute," Robert said, cracking a smile that looked almost as cynical as it did amused. "She must have one hell of an autopilot."

"Well, who d'you think keeps it workin'?" Kaylee smirked. "One o' those things just takes the right person, I guess."

"Always does come down to that." A flinty glint had entered Robert's eye and Kaylee missed not a lash of it: the conversation was taking a direction for ill. Best she keep it in safer lanes, she considered, especially in the situation at hand. She saw his eyes drift away and along the piping rising overhead beside the infirmary: aimless they absorbed every line of the little freighter with a curious streak that Kaylee knew well, for it was almost the same streak she'd experienced at her first meeting with the ship.

_"Serenity,_ eh?" Robert repeated after a moment.

"Yup," Kaylee said lightly.

Now it was Robert's turn to grow reflective. "Y'know, them's times when I wonder if my old man was better off kickin' it at Boros. You know I was still a rookie fireman when the news about Serenity Valley got this far."

"Hell of a time for cortex trouble," Kaylee said, frowning slightly.

"Ain't the end of the battle I'm talkin' on. 'Twas about a month afore we got wind of everythin' went down after the surrender. Even if my old man lived to see that battle and get through it...."

Kaylee nodded in understanding. "Yeah, might've been just as well. Cap'n Reynolds held down the fort for months – but the Alliance, they made sure every history teacher in the 'verse forgot about the heroes from the other side. It sure don't seem like the captain's forgot about it too well his own self. I'm thinkin' he'll have a snowball fight with the devil 'fore he lets go of it any."

"Who'd blame him?" Robert shrugged, leaning forward with elbows to knees. "We're still after flickin' the Alliance's ear, you know. They talk all this _fei hua_ about our great and shiny and glorious future, but what makes 'em think there's no glory to be had in the past? I mean, you seen a little bit of the way we live here when we did our thing for you on Guonian. Might be time and the Feds forgot some of the life we like to live, but we sure ain't."

"Sometimes the old ways is best," Kaylee smiled, picking up the thread. "A ship, a train, a planet - less fixin's a thing has, the easier it is to fix. I mean, it gets down to it, what makes things go? How's a world get started? Even if it's, like, Londinium or Sihnon or Guonian or Roma, not a one of 'em would be livable if they wasn't near enough the same as Earth."

"Yeah, well, that's why we get so many settlers hereabouts. 'Cause they know same as us that we don't let the Feds complicate things, 'cause there ain't no reason to. And there's still a lot of border planets ain't even got as far as we done."

"Could be they like it their own way, same as you. Or, could be they've tried and the Alliance had other notions. Me and _Serenity_ seen more'n a few of them – all folk want is a chance to live the life they like, if there just wasn't somebody in the path didn't wanna let 'em."

"Yeah." Suddenly taciturn, Robert nodded his head, peering absently through the window at the opposite end of the infirmary. "I know exactly what you mean."

An upbeat, sunlit avenue to continuing the conversation eluded Kaylee, wrack her brain though she might to open one. As she thought of the last chat they'd forced to last longer than five or ten minutes, she could no longer focus on what had drawn them together, nor refute what had driven them apart. For Kaylee, everything was sunshine, clear skies and fresh strawberries: a brightly shining chrome plate of how the universe could be at its best moments, an unconditional love of almost all things mechanical or natural. For Robert, the universe was just what it was: black. Seeing him again bothered her in a way: it bore on her a regret that she'd been unable to fathom their night-and-day outlooks on life before coming to live on _Serenity._ She knew their life experiences were too far different and she had felt genuinely sorry for him, but she also knew she just couldn't live with it - and doubted if she could live with herself had she tried to make him change.

She eyed his hands, deeply ingrained with dirt and if her memory served, nearly immune to heat. That immunity, like any other, came with time and frequent contact with hot and heavy machinery, unique machinery, machinery Kaylee had only once seen up close but still longed to learn about. Maybe that chance had turned up, and with it, maybe a chance to reconcile their differences and forge what they could at the very least solidify into a lifelong friendship. If the chance existed, however, it was hedging around _Serenity_ waiting for the intense wildfire of Mal's determination to cool.

For Mal was making tracks through the cargo bay and Mal had about him the force of a human cyclone. The lull in the conversation alerted both Kaylee and Robert to his approach, and at the same time, to his voice and Zoe's engaged in talk unintelligible beyond the doorway. By the time they glanced toward the door, the two old soldiers were already in it - lacking Inara, the rest of the crew summarily piled down the stairs into the common room, heedless of its two occupants until Mal stopped short at the sight of the new face. 

"Hey, Cap'n," Kaylee beamed. "So, fuel buggy on the way?"

"Hit a few speed bumps," Mal's tone was non-committal, pointedly leaving out the street battle. No need for Kaylee to know about that until after the job briefing, he reasoned. He nodded toward Robert, eyes visibly hardened. "Who's the new kid?"

"Oh," Kaylee said quickly, remembering her manners. "This's Robert Berakis, an old friend of mine."

Robert had already taken to his feet to greet Mal, but he froze when he saw the shocked look on the captain's visage as Kaylee disclosed his name. Zoe favoured a similar expression: it escaped neither Wash nor Book, versus Jayne's usual ignorance. None of them, however, spied River's fixed stare through the window of the infirmary, where Simon had herded her for one of the day's checkups.

Robert himself, waiting to retrieve Mal's gaze, slowly nodded his head in guarded greeting. "Howdy," he said just as slowly.

"Hello there," Mal said, near toneless.

"You two meet on Guonian?" Zoe surmised.

"Oddly enough, we did," Kaylee said, trying not to add to the discomfort. "The Alliance hit our transport infrastructure pretty hard during the war. Rob and some of his lot came out for a few weeks to help us rebuild."

"Sounds right helpful." Mal's gaze had barely wavered from the younger man. "Like you'd go out of your way to help folk who need some savin'."

"It's a family tradition," Robert said briefly.

"I imagine it is. Well." Mal paused, glancing at Kaylee, shock and reflection giving way to business. "We got a job to brief on, so best we get upstairs and get about it." Again he looked on Robert, steadily, but this time with a bit less ice to his stare. "You're welcome to stick around, son. Little local colour might not go amiss."

 

***

"Been an interesting morning, hasn't it?" Simon said conversationally, emptying a small bottle of propoxin into a test tube.

"Define 'interesting'," River muttered. She was fidgeting slightly on the exam table, her eyes flicking endlessly at nothing particular.

Simon looked up, almost forgetting about the test tube in his hand. His eyes narrowed slightly at the unsettled expression on River's visage: it occurred to him that her anxiety, though still palpable, had subsided somewhat after they returned to _Serenity._ One could hope that was a good sign. Then his face softened as he tried yet again to guess what was on her enigmatic mind. 

"River, what did you mean when we went to get Zoe and Wash? About the ringing? Is someone coming after us? Or...." Even as he was asking, he was silently praying that the Alliance agents who had pursued them on Ariel were no longer in _Serenity_ 's wake.

"Too much heat." River's voice barely exceeded an uneasy whisper. "Found Old Faithful, but the heat is still too intense. It'll melt everything. If there's an insufficient level of hydroprotection, everything will weaken and overpressure will incur a cataclysmic explosion." She half-turned on the table and looked plaintively into Simon's eyes, a look he recognised from the first several times he'd tried to bring her into the infirmary. "He can't let us explode, Simon."

"Don't worry, River, we're not going to explode," Simon promised, mixing the test tube's contents into a glass of water. "Okay, so I'm whistling in the dark here, but even if Jayne catches on fire and ignites what fuel we have, there's hardly enough of it left to crack any of the viewports."

"Spontaneous human combustion is an unsubstantiated theory borne of paranoia," River said in a low drone. "Frigid, compared to the fire within. Could burn out of control, could die in a flash." She tarried, her eyes dropped and she took a long, shuddering breath, holding her brother stock-still with her ominous ramblings. "Just like we will when the ringing stops."


	6. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before the adventure begins, Mal comes to find that his new guest knows almost everything that need be known about the coming job.

**前进**

"Don't care much to be a _ying zai yao gao,_ Cap'n," Robert spoke up as the group filed through the aft door into the dining area. "But I got a notion more's at work here than just local colour."

"Seems to me the local colour's brown," Mal answered. "Me and Zoe here spent too many nights and not enough days tryin' to keep the purple out of it. Show me a fly in the ointment, and I'll show you a lot of plus-sized Alliance noses stickin' where they shouldn't ought to."

"You ain't hardly one to talk about plus-sized noses, y'know," Jayne commented.

"Jayne!" Zoe's tongue might well have lopped his head off at a closer range. "Best be closin' the peanut gallery. We got work to do."

"You get a hold of Whosieface, then?" Kaylee asked as she parked herself near the forward end of the table.

"We did," Mal said simply. "Ray's got just the job. I won't lie it's fair lackin' in comfort, but if the Feds get wind of what we're after, folk on this world are like to be in one hell of a storm of troubledness." He passed a glance over the dining area, not just to make sure he had all ears but to spot Robert's sudden look of apprehension.

"So what _is_ our latest hellabaloo of a grave-digging caper?" Wash was all mock eagerness, leaning forward, hands folded in anticipation on the tabletop.

"It's of interest you put it quite that way, Wash," Mal said. "'Cause grave-diggin' is exactly where this job is gonna take us in time."

The mockery was gone in an instant and Wash's manner turned downright vexed. "I was....just....being facetious," he faltered.

Jayne leaned negligently back in his chair, chomping down a handful of protein chips that he seemed to have sleight-of-handed out of nowhere. "Make mine an extra foot deep, little man," he said with a callous grin. "Needs me some head room."

The ensuing pause lent itself to confusion, quickly giving way to silent but palpable disgust at the implication. Clearing his throat, Mal put the repertoire from his mind and proceeded with the briefing. "Just gotta do some dead-wakin', is all. Mayhaps rewrite some history while we're at it. Which is a bubblin' pot of tricky in and of itself, seein' that this exact history ain't as buried as some might like it to be. Local legend has it that a freight train disappeared roundabouts Yamenmiao Pass, up in the Napoli Mountains, bunch of years ago. Ray says it was carryin' some cargo that was hot shot in more ways than one. Wherever the train got off to, best for both us and this planet if we get clear to diggin' it up before anyone else does and brings the Feds trampin' over the hill."

As he spoke, his wearied eyes ambled about the dining hall in observance of his crew's reactions. Zoe and Wash were nothing if not attentive: Jayne, having heard the story already, was well engrossed in his protein chips. Book was in his somber and taciturn groove, as if ripening some of his unshepherdly knowledge for the sharing. Kaylee, it was Kaylee who stirred Mal's curiosity. Her expression was ashen, her usual high spirits invisible.

"Somethin' tells me it's more'n just a legend, Cap'n," she said mutedly, looking past him.

At this, Mal realised that his new guest's reaction had gone unnoticed, but when he turned to take note of it Robert seemed downright shell-shocked. Mal might as well have grown an extra head and a half judging by the look he was getting from the younger man, who was lurking in a corner across the room.

"What's tellin' you so, little Kaylee?" Mal asked quietly.

"Rob...." Kaylee had the merest tremor in her tone. "This ain't no legend to you, is it?"

Heavily and nervously, Robert sighed and nodded. "Damn sure ain't. It's gotta be the _Lickey Banker."_

"The _Lickey Banker,"_ Kaylee repeated, her eyes widened in awe by the sudden pulse-flattening memory of the story. "I remember you told me about that. The train that disappeared and never got found!"

"Got itself covered up well enough," Robert said sardonically. "Even after all this time, the world's still yet to get a straight answer from the powers that be about what really happened to it."

Mal turned to face him straight on with arms impassively folded, attempting to hide his quickening pulse as the thug's warning came back to him in a rush. "You know a thing or three about it, do you?"

"A thing or three's about all. The most of us on the railroad wish we knew more, but all anybody knows for sure is what got wrote on its train order before it made its last run up Yamenmiao Pass." 

"Wanna enlighten us?"

Robert's eyes narrowed, peering distantly into another time as he recited from clear memory the text of the vanished train's track permit. _Track permit # **N-82.** Date **AUGUST 26, 2504.** TRAIN **PX-21** ENGINE **KF 3028** may proceed **NORTHWARD** from **NORTH YARD LIMIT JANUS CITY** to **SOUTH SIDING SWITCH PECOLA.** Time effective **2143** dispatcher **ZHEN.**_ "That's all anybody's got for any kinda proof that it ever even existed. The fat-asses in the rear tried to tell everyone it was faked, even though they never bothered figurin' on who-all faked it."

"Out of curiosity, what was the name 'Lickey Banker' supposed to mean?" Book asked.

"Most obscure code name a body ever conjured up. 'Lickey Banker' was the name of a steam engine they used on Earth that was in the mid-twentieth century. One of its nicknames was 'Big Bertha', which just happens to also be the nickname they gave to some railroad guns during the First World War."

"And wasn't the _Banker_ s'posed to be carryin' some great big modern ones on its last run?" Kaylee said, her face twisting thoughtfully.

"That was one of the longest-runnin' rumours." There was a certain warmth, an affection almost, in Robert's gaze as he refreshed Kaylee's memory. "You ask me, there's gotta be more'n a coincidence there."

"Weren't a rumour," Mal said. Even as he fit the pieces of the puzzle together he took due notice of Robert's look, making a mental note to discourage any advances the boy had in mind. "It was more'n just coincidence. Last time anyone saw the train up close, it had nine of 'em on board. Biggest launchers knowed to man."

Slowly, tensely, Robert took a deep breath. Mal could see straight through him. Not only did he know the nature of the train's last run, he shared the belief that it had left the yard and disappeared all those years ago. The train couldn't have been given a code name based on its chief commodity for any less reason than Carabella had for going to the expense of searching for it. And Robert was even more nonplussed than Mal had been to know that weapons of such awesome caliber had been constructed, not to mention lost.

"Mind if I ask you somethin', Cap?" he said.

"Fire away."

"Talkin' of coincidences, you said your guy's name is Ray?"

"Corsetto," Mal said with a single nod. "He put in even longer nights than me and Zoe back in the day."

"Still gonna be, if he wants you to get to the train ahead of that _hun-dan_ Carabella."

"You know that godfather wannabe, do you?"

"Who the hell doesn't?" Robert said. His derisive snort was all the answer necessary. _"Wu-dai_ claims he's just an honest gambler like there's any such thing, but I'm a fourth-generation railroad man and he's a God-knows-what-generation extortionist. Take it from me, Cap'n, he's been buildin' his business on everybody else's troubles ever since the war. I sure hope Mr. Corsetto's got you some backup."

"Not so much," Mal said flatly. Book's revelation from the history volume was bursting in his memory. "We're told Carabella's got a claim to the goods, but Ray gives me all manner o' reason to doubt it's rightful."

"But what's there for him to claim?" Kaylee said with a confused toss of her hands. "He couldn't be after those guns if they're there, could he?"

"Might be, if he can black-market 'em," Wash pointed out.

"Then only if he could sell off guns that big without the Feds noticing," Zoe rebutted. "No, he's lookin' for something else."

"Which brings us back to how much time's left before he finds it," Mal said. "'Cause there'll be hell to pay when he finds the guns along with it. Robert, any notions?"

"Nothin' I can back up," Robert shrugged. "The _Lickey Banker_ – leastways back before it was called the _Lickey Banker_ – ran a lot of hotshot goods on three different divisions out of Janus City, and it was all in container cars with UAP explosive placards. More often than not, though, it weren't even carryin' anything like to go boom – the placards were just cover for whatever precious was really on board. But it didn't make a difference the night the northbound train disappeared, 'cause it disappeared right off the system map with nothin' so much as a drop of steam oil to tell where."

"So we been told," Mal said thoughtfully. "But whatever hotshot goods it was haulin', Carabella and his boys don't want us gettin' near it. Or anybody else for that matter."

"All right, so here's what's bakin' me through," Jayne spoke up. "What's got him hot to trot about findin' the damn thing?"

"Well," Book said contemplatively, "what could the train be carrying that would interest a man like Carabella?"

"I remember the first time you told me the story, Rob," Kaylee piped up. "The _Banker_ had at least one car fulla precious in the consist, it's said. One guy you worked with on Guonian, he even swore it was a boxcar fulla gold, right back of the engine." She peered hopefully at Robert for support, gratified to see him nodding his head.

"And you say I've got a hell of a memory," he said with a wry smile. "My granddaddy said it was just clinky coin, but if that part's true, that'd do it. Couple thousand shinies and you got yourself a natural target for train robbers."

"A detail best left unknown, no doubt," Book interjected.

"Believe it," Robert nodded. "It was unknown before the train disappeared and it was even less known afterward. Management saw to that."

"So how much?" Jayne asked.

"Hmm?"

"How much coin we talkin' about?" Jayne's expectant half-grin deepened the scar on his cheek.

Mild exasperation could be seen in Robert's raised eyebrows and the deep breath he took before answering. "Now that's one little nugget got lost before the train did. Even the fat-asses in the rear prob'ly didn't know how much it was carryin'."

"Two will get you ten that's what Carabella's after, though," Mal said. "Gets a body wonderin' just how he knows so much about the train. Not that that's any kinda crucial, unless he knows what else is on board."

"They have any notions at the time where it ended up?" Zoe asked.

"Couple, but they never bore out," Robert explained. "Goes without saying that all the high-and-mighty poohbahs upstairs kept it tighter'n a washout plug. Track gangs spent weeks combing the whole division for any sign of the train, but far as they could tell, it was never even there. So the fat-asses in the rear decided to keep it that way."

"I wonder just how surprised they'd be to find out where Carabella and his boys are lookin'," Mal said skeptically.

"Yeah, that stone quarry off of Red Rock Junction."

"But they tried there, though, didn't they?" Kaylee frowned. "I thought you said the switch was spiked and the tracks was all rusted over. No way the train coulda took a spill into the quarry."

"Guess Carabella thinks elseways. So did my granddaddy, far as that goes. He was already a thirty-year hogger when the _Banker_ disappeared, and it never did run true with him what the all-high desk hogs let on to the public. They made deadened sure that the train never existed, far as the rest of the 'verse was concerned."

"But the working stiffs knew better," Mal surmised.

"Much better. Everyone in this part of the world did, only the big boys shut them up, too. Asked the rest of the guys to say so if they had any other ideas where the train got off to, and no one's yet given one, but the bigshots couldn't be bothered to give anyone else a straight answer either."

"Okay, I'll bite," Jayne spoke up. "Say this story o' yourn's all truthsome. Where's the train at now, then?"

"And could it really be that difficult to find a big long articulated metal object, let alone hide it in the first place?" Wash put in. "I mean, it's got to be somewhere near a mag-lev strip, right?"

"Not in this world, Wash," Kaylee answered with a forced but knowing smile. "Ain't no mag-lev strips hereabouts. Steam and steel, that's how they used to get it done back in the day." It was obvious to more than one of the crew that she looked very much forward to witnessing those two elements at work again.

Robert, meanwhile, answered Wash's surprised look with a wry half-smile. "Just old-fashioned," he said mildly. "But you ain't kiddin', friend. An instance like this makes for one hell of a disappearing act. Like my granddaddy used to say, 'Rusty rails tell no tales.'"

"Used to," Mal echoed.

Robert's eyes dropped briefly. "He went to that big roundhouse in the sky a couple months after Serenity Valley. But he went there believin', same as I do, that the _Lickey Banker_ is in them mountains somewhere sure as there's horses in hay."

Another silent pause drifted through the dining area, though none could tell if it was brought on stronger by the years-old mystery or the mention of the Valley. "Tell me one more thing," Mal said finally. "You know the mountains well enough?"

"Enough to run a train through 'em, not so much for rock climbing."

"Well, descent's foremost on my mind," Mal said with quiet firmness. "Way I see it, the most of folk hereabouts want this mystery solved, and it needs solvin' afore the Feds get their mitts on it. Now if that includes you at all, kid, and if you feel up for it, you come with us. _Serenity_ 's suckin' fumes - she ain't never gonna get off the ground without a fill-up, which means we can't get her into the mountains to pick up the cargo. Chances are the shuttle won't fit a one of those guns, and even if it could, Carabella'd be onto us long before we're done. But you can help us find the train, you can help us bring it to light, and you can help us bring it to the barn."

For an overweight beat he and Robert eyed each other. Any escalation in its intensity would have elevated it to a standoff – trust wasn't even visible between them, let alone mutual or even complete. At this point Simon entered the dining area, but the silence almost rooted him to the stairs as he stepped over the door sill and his entrance went unnoticed. Not a word was spoken about the table until at last Robert marshalled his thoughts.

"Help you out," he repeated askance. "Unless I missed something Chinese and obscure, you're lookin' to beat the worst mob guy this side of Londinium to the punch, and you're lookin' for me to do the same. So what's my motivation?"

"How about our only chance to get it out from under his nose?" Mal pressed on. "You lend a hand, we got a chance to take the whole load at once and bring it down here before he even knows we've made our move. He gets wise and raises a fuss, we got our ways of handling him." Mal jerked his head in Jayne's direction, drawing some welcomed attention to the big mercenary's malignant smirk.

"Well, I don't know if you ever been here before, but this planet's got only two rules written in the pavement." Eyes hardening to a blistering glare, Robert began to edge toward the forward door. "You don't steal from the mob and you don't cross the Carabellas. Hate to break the news to you, Cap, but you're on your own. There's any chance that bastard will catch on, count me out." He shot his glare briefly at Jayne, executed a curt, almost military turn and set off for the door. Book, standing nearest the stairs, made no move to stop him: he knew all too well that he wouldn't have to.

Mal was already pivoting into the boy's wake. Tuned by years of command, his raised voice caught Robert only a few feet short of the steps.

"I know you're devoted to your own, son," he said with the tone of a snapping whip. "You ain't gotta explain that to no one. Least of all Zoe and me."

Robert felt his pulse flatten as he held stock-still. Mal had just re-ignited a fuse within him that had been smouldering for nearly eight years. Slowly he turned: his glare had softened, but steadily met the stony expression on Mal's face: the fire in the captain's eyes iced the fire of any locomotive Robert had ever run. "Yeah, how's that?" he asked quietly.

"The Battle of Boros. Your old man saw that Alliance gunboat bearin' down on him and his regiment, jumped up on top of an outcropping and emptied his every mag into the Alliance entrenchments on the ground. He was still there when the gunboat opened fire and flattened the hill." Mal paused, studying Robert's reaction. The eyebrows had lowered; a thoughtful expression was beginning to cross the younger man's face, an expression of understanding, of what Mal vaguely identified as relief. Robert looked away, eyes misted ever so slightly as he stared blankly at the tabletop.

"Nobody ever told you how your father died, did they?" Mal asked.

Robert shook his head in a sober moment of reflection. "Not so much. But how do you know who he was?"

"Eric Berakis loved talkin' the past. Loved to talk about the old country when we was takin' our rations, how his pop worked the railroad and his kid was dyin' to join in and how they was doin' their piece to keep our supplies movin' to the front lines. Might be all's you did back then was mechanical work, but he was still proud as all Dyton what you did for the war effort. Said one time, for you and the rest of his family and his world, the least he could do was make damn certain he died on his feet. And you better believe he died on his feet, with a gun in his hands and no helmet on his head, yellin' who-all knows what when the gunboat opened up. He did what he thought was right by the world he loved. I know you're gonna do the same."

Silence fell, heavier and wider-spread than ever before. A half-smile crinkled one side of Robert's face: Mal studied him as his eyes dropped to the deck at the captain's feet. A stray memory crept out of the back of Mal's mind, a memory of Niska's passion for the writings of Shan Yu. Robert might not have been looking down the barrel of a volcano, but Mal nonetheless knew it was this moment that would make or break him as an ally. When he looked up, perhaps half a minute later, no signs of bemoaning were in his eyes: only an errant tear, which he rubbed away before it could fall.

"Must be one helluva following you got under your hatch, boss," he said finally, glancing around at the rest of the crew.

Mal visibly relaxed. "You better believe that, too."

"Cap'n," Kaylee spoke up, so quietly that it took Mal a moment to realise she was speaking. "Don't wanna rain on no one, but if it comes up the train really is buried in the quarry, how's Rob s'posed to pull it outa there?"

"Just 'cause Carabella's tearin' up the quarry don't mean the train's there to be found," Mal said. "Methinks he would've found it by now if it was."

"So you're planning to start where exactly?" Wash sought.

"That's what I'm lookin' to suss out tonight. See if you can pull up a map of this area and highlight the rail line over Yamenmiao Pass. Robert, you show him the quarry and the roundabouts. Should oughta help narrow the search a little."

"Okay, whoa, hang on one second," Wash interrupted with raised hand. "I've got kind of a hair-raising recollection of our most recent train job and what happened afterward. Pray tell, have you managed an up-close peek at Carabella's torture chamber?"

"Seems I remember a notion about movin' the whole train at once," Mal rebuffed. "Won't take near as long as tryin' to manhandle every gun, which gives us a stab at movin' the lot of 'em before Carabella even realises it. Once you get us a starting point, the three of us will take the number two shuttle and see what's goin' on at that quarry. Zoe, ship's yours till we get back. If you hear from Inara, call me right away. She's in a bad spot right now and I don't want Carabella scratchin' her if he starts to get itchy."

"You know Inara, sir," Zoe objected respectfully. "She's mighty tight-lipped about her contacts."

Mal nodded wordlessly: indeed he was painfully aware of Inara's sense of privacy. However, he also knew that it would prove even worse for her if something went wrong. "I know," he said, unfolding his arms. "But if Carabella gets wise to us, privacy's gonna be the least of her worries. All right, let's get to work. I want to be ready to roll by tomorrow afternoon."

The crew separated for the second time that day, but went about their duties with renewed vigour: the job was plainly spread in front of them and the solution to the mystery was nigh. Listening to the resumption of hustle and bustle spreading from the dining area out to the rest of the ship, Mal remained leaning against the bulkhead, watching Wash and Robert duck through the doorway into the foredeck. His mind drifted away from the dining area, alit from _Serenity,_ broke free of atmo: back it wandered to Boros, to one of the precious few lulls in Alliance bombardments on the Independent bastions. There was Eric Berakis, no-nonsense steely-eyed manner and all, making no bones about his willingness to lay down his life for God and country. No matter anybody else's claims, Mal maintained that the corporal's valour in the face of certain death should share in the legend of brown-coated heroes systemwide. If Robert Berakis was at all his father's son, the dense fog surrounding this job might just be about to lift.

*** 

Robert took a few seconds' pause before following Wash onto the bridge – his gaze had been drawn, and rightly so, by the dazzling entrance to Kaylee's cabin. He drank in the sign and the surrounding lights with folded arms and a half-smiling face: in the past two years he'd only known Kaylee for a month, but anybody who knew her a third as well as he did could expect nothing less bright. Some things never changed, he thought with an amused shake of the head. Even if it wasn't always the most pleasant fact of life.

"Light at the end?"

He turned, almost starting at the sudden appearance of the slender, dark-haired girl beside him. "Come again?" he said quizzically.

"Sometimes the darkest path is the only path to take," River said quietly. "The darkest ones are the only ones strong enough to take it – see who will bring them the light at its end."

"Well, you know what they say about the light at the end of the tunnel. Oncoming train and all that."

"What if you're running the train?" River smiled, cocking her head.

Robert's own half-grin was as detached as it was discomforted. "Now how would you know about that?" he queried.

"A little chickadee whispered in my ear. Smiled and laughed and lit a candle while the blackbirds cursed the darkness."

"Hm." Robert squinted, edging backward away from her. "Thanks for clarifying that."

"Well, at least she's not hurling all manner of medical instruments and containers at your head," Wash called down from the bridge. "I'm linked up, want to take a look?"

"Yeah." Nodding briefly to River, Robert turned around and marched crisply up the stairs to the bridge, trying to shake off his nervous feeling that the pretty but odd little girl was still watching him.

"What is she, diagonally parked in a parallel universe?" he muttered as he bent over the helm beside Wash.

"Something like that. Not to worry, though, she doesn't bite." Even as he spoke Wash was wondering if he should mention the butcher-knife episode.

"Ain't worried on that so much as what-all I'm gettin' myself into here."

"Well, take it from me, there's no call to fret, long as you do your part of the job and do it right. Mal and Zoe both survived Serenity Valley, and Mal didn't name the ship after it for no reason. You do wrong by Mal, you'll get fired, and if you do wrong by Zoe, you'll get fired _at._ But as long as you do your thing the way you've been asked, won't bring yourself any trouble."

"Good to know," Robert said, taking a deep breath and tapping the map screen as it lit up with a satellite mosaic of the Napoli Mountains. "All right, here we go. Just hope that captain o' yourn knows how to get the impossible done."

"Any other place up there that could hide a whole train?"

"Uhhh...." Robert squinted, wracking his memory of the lay of the pass for a possible hiding place, but Mal got to him a split second before clarity did.

"How we lookin'?" the captain broke in as he strode onto the bridge.

"Just gotta brush up on my land navigation and we're just about there," Wash said positively.

Mal leaned in between them, peering at the map screen. "Here's Yamenmiao Pass," Robert said, pointing at a red line running through the southern edge of the mountains. His finger trailed upward from the bottom of the pass, stopping at a point near what looked to be a low hump of a mountain peak. "The forest up there is thick as thieves till you hit Red Rock Junction. The quarry siding's here – pretty much the only track that still connects with the main, but it was a dead end even then. Hence why it didn't make no sense for the train to be anywheres near it."

Mal's right eye squinted imperceptibly. His finger rose and prodded at the screen, pointing out a barely discernible scar in the woods near the quarry siding. "What's this?" he asked.

"Just an old spur that runs off in the woods, but the switch got tore up about fifty years ago. No way the train could've been diverted onto it."

"So how exactly are we expecting to turn anything up around there?" Wash frowned.

"Think it's time we find out," Mal said. "But it could be we got a ways to search yet. Go on and get that shuttle prepped."

Nodding wordlessly, Wash arose, sidled past him and headed aft. Mal dropped into the pilot's seat after he had left: for some time he sat leaning back in the chair, eyes fixed on the map screen, staring at the area between the rail line and the low mountain peak. The train was there somewhere – Carabella believed it, Robert believed it, Robert's grandfather had believed it. No secret could stay kept indefinitely, so long as it still lurked in the deepest abscesses of one person's brain. Still, even though they had found as good a starting point as any, it didn't answer the prevailing question of where the _Lickey Banker_ was hidden.

The questions were many and the answers were none.

"You know, Cap, Mr. Corsetto seems awful interested in that train for a guy who ain't got much reason to be," Robert mused. "Think he's got one after all?"

"Somethin' else is definitely gettin' played at here," Mal said distantly around his index finger. "Hell if I know what. But I'll damn well know by tomorrow night."


End file.
